


To Sleep Under Strange Covers

by Anonymous



Category: Buzzfeed The Try Guys (Web Series)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Bullying, Kissing, M/M, School Trip, Teacher-Student Relationship, Underage - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-12 16:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15999110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Zach had been looking forward to this trip for the entire month, because it meant seven whole days away from school; no lessons, no math and most importantly: no Mr. Yang.Note:This fic is a sequel to "Your Raft in My Storm."





	1. Chapter 1

Zach hitched his backpack higher, kissed his mom goodbye and made his way across the school parking lot to the massive, orange bus his classmates were gathering around. All of them were packed in thick jackets: from autumn brown to signal pink or red, with gray stripes or dark hems or green triangles, which seemed to be prevailing this season. The luggage they were carrying was even more colorful, ranging from Disney princess prints over more mature patterns to ‘that old bag your dad used on his last school trip.’ Unfortunately, Zach’s own was in the latter category.

But for once he wasn’t actually ashamed of showing up with an old, ratty blue bag. Nor did the prospect of an entire week in Sacramento, full of city tours and no booze and smelly, unpleasant communal showers, manage to sour his mood. He had been looking forward to this trip for the entire month, because it meant seven whole days away from school; no lessons, no math and most importantly: no Mr. Yang.

And Zach desperately needed the reprieve. Ever since that day at the gym, things hadn’t quite been the same. Of course Mr. Yang was just as awesome as always: he still didn’t mind explaining things a third time and he kept an eye out for Zach in the school yard sometimes. It was _Zach_ who was the problem: the way he was suddenly hyper aware of the distance between their bodies when Mr. Yang crouched or leaned by his desk; the way he found himself tracking the shift of muscles under Mr. Yang’s expensive clothes – or imagining him without them – during class. Not to mention all the times he thought of Mr. Yang when he was alone, curled up under his covers in bed, surrounded by soothing darkness: all the things he wanted his teacher to do to him, the things he would take to his grave rather than to say them out loud. It was perverted, he knew, and Zach fought tooth and nail against the yearning that gnawed behind his sternum, but he was getting tired. He had to forget his fluttery, confused feelings as fast as possible, and some time away from school could only help his cause.

A shadow fell over him. He stiffened.

Over him loomed a veritable giant of a boy – which was the pinnacle of unfairness, because their birthdays were actually just two weeks apart – and scowled. His square jaw worked, grinding on nothing, and even though his eyes were as big as an otter’s, he managed to look menacing. He crossed his big hands over his chest, over the crest of the school’s soccer team, but below his name: Thomas.

“You’re in a room with us, Kornfeld,” he said. “Just warning you right here: better stay out of our way, or you won’t enjoy what happens.”

Two more boys, not quite as buff, showed up behind him and nodded along to every word.

Zach took a careful step backwards and looked around for a teacher – preferably Mr. Habersberger, but he’d do with Mrs. Fulmer. “I requested to be put in the room for two,” he protested.

Thomas’ mouth shifted into a nasty grin. “Rosie and her friend got that room. Mr. Habersberger just said you’re with us.”

He crowded right into Zach’s space, eyes narrowing. “So you better remember what I told you. You don’t want that kind of trouble, Kornfeld.”

Considering Thomas was almost twice his size and could snap him like a twig, self-defense moves or not, Zach gulped and nodded.

“Good,” said Thomas. “Now that we have that out of the way, how about some new rules?”

“Attention, class,” Mr. Habersberger’s voice interrupted. “Listen up for a moment.”

Zach let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding.

Mr. Habersberger stood by the bus’ front door, a clipboard in hand on which he was probably checking off his student’s names. Behind him, a man in a snug fitting black duffle coat came into view, with perfectly styled hair and a permanently unimpressed expression on his face.

Zach’s stomach dropped. What the hell was Mr. Yang doing here?

Apparently he wasn’t the only one asking himself that question, because one by one, his peers fell silent.

“You’re probably wondering why Mrs. Fulmer is not here,” Mr. Habersberger began. “Well, as you know, she’s pregnant. There have been a few complications over the weekend. She is fine, and the baby is fine too, but unfortunately –,” he drew the word out, “she can’t come with us. That’s why Mr. Yang is here to jump in as a substitute. Yay! Now, everyone get on the bus. We’re already running late.”

He tapped his ballpen against the edge of the clipboard. The sound cut abnormally loud through the haze of shock that clouded Zach’s mind. While the other students threw their luggage into the designated compartments and climbed inside to claim a seat, he stood there frozen, until he was the last boy outside.

Mr. Yang spotted him and quirked an elegantly slanted brow. “You should get on, Zachary.”

His voice felt like a jolt in Zach’s gut. Heat flooded his cheeks. He mumbled something – more of a choked sound than a real word – and hastily did as told.

Due to his hesitation, his classmates had already spread out around him, getting comfortable as if they were spending the week right here instead of just a few hours’ drive. A couple of boys were calling out movie options at each other, while the girls were bargaining for snacks.

The only vacant seats where either in the back, where Thomas and his friends had set up camp, or right in the front, next to Mr. Habersberger... and Mr. Yang. Both teachers were scanning the rows of students, counting, and over the heads of his classmates, Mr. Yang’s dark eyes met Zach’s.

Zach’s stomach lurched. Quickly, he turned to the end of the bus. Sure, Thomas’ angry expression made him want to cower, but he couldn’t, under any circumstances, sit with Mr. Yang. 

 

* * * 

 

Avoiding Mr. Yang was working quite splendidly, actually. It might have been because after the chaos of the room assignments no one was in the mood to talk, least of all the teachers. Sadly, through all the rearrangements, Zach hadn’t gotten out of bunking with Thomas and his friends.

Determined to dodge any more trouble for one day, Zach immediately went to hide in the upper bunk bed, wedged under the low, slanted ceiling, and didn’t come out again except to brush his teeth. That seemed to be alright with the other boys, because neither of them talked to him. That pattern continued during breakfast the next day, which Zach finished as quickly as possible.

Soon, they were on their way to museum of local history... on foot. Because apparently physical activity was a vital part of this excursion. Zach hung back, bringing up the rear of their rainbow-colored procession. This way, he could keep an eye on Mr. Yang’s perfectly styled hair at the front of the pack.

“Hey, teacher’s pet. Lost your master?”

Zach tensed.

Thomas and his friends were walking in front of him. They hadn’t paid him any mind so far, but now Thomas fell back and adjusted to his speed.

Zach kept his gaze ahead, on the dusty, leaf-littered sidewalk no one had bothered to clean up yet, reflected in the huge storefront windows to his right. He tried not to look scared, and his voice, when he spoke, sounded calm. “You mean me?”

Thomas leaned in front of him, forcing Zach to evade. “Ohh, look at that face. You gonna have me suspended, Kornfeld? Like you did with Frank?”

Alarmed, Zach’s gaze flickered to his face.

Thomas burst out laughing. His friends fell in quickly. There was a fourth boy with them now, looking a little unsure about the situation but not dumb enough to stand up to the class jock.

“He’s my cousin, you know. He told me all about how you went crying to Mr. Chinese,” Thomas explained.

“He’s Korean,” Zach corrected. He immediately cursed his mouth.

The boys laughed again, and then Thomas bumped his shoulder into Zach’s and almost sent him sprawling onto the road.

“My aunt wasn’t happy to have that happen to Frank, you know,” said Thomas. “Because he’s a real good guy. You had no right to do that to him, so you better watch your back, short stack.”

“Zachary, is everything alright here?”

All of them, Zach included, startled at Mr. Yang’s cutting voice. Thomas jumped back, bringing some distance between them.

“Yes, Mr. Yang. We’re absolutely fine. Just talking to Zach about how awesome that museum’s gonna be. Local history, you know?”

“Zachary?”

Zach didn’t want to look up. But he knew he had to. Mr. Yang’s angular face came into view; his thin mouth, straight nose and the stubble around his jaw he hadn’t shaved off. He was also wearing glasses today, thick rimmed and black, and they looked better on him than any glasses had ever had on Zach. His eyes were sparking with attention, focused, with that same intent expression he’d been dreaming about almost every night since last month.

Zach’s breath got stuck in his throat and no words came over his lips.

Mr. Yang frowned at that, looking over to the boys before coming back to him. He opened his mouth, probably to reprimand Thomas, but Zach was quicker.

“Yeah, the museum will be rad!“, he blurted.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Thomas smirk. He quickly masked it when Mr. Yang turned.

“Then you better start teaming up now. We’re almost there. Groups of three or four, please, and for your own sake, try not to look like you’re loitering.“

“Yes, sir,” said Thomas immediately. “That’ll be us.”

Mr. Yang narrowed his eyes. He gestured for Zach to follow him. Their little interlude had brought some distance between them and the rest of the group, who had moved on with Mr. Habersberger. “Come on, Zachary. You need a group.”

Something nasty curled in his stomach. “I... yes, sir,” said Zach. 

Mr. Yang nodded and walked ahead.

Behind him, Thomas gave Zach the stink-eye. He leaned in. “Do you sit on his lap, too?”

Zach scowled. “He’s just a teacher,” he growled, and continued to hang back while his heart beat traitorously in his chest.

 

* * *

 

“Zachary, I think we need to talk.”

Zach’s stomach turned ice cold in a second. Despite the warmth of the day and the sweater and jeans he was wearing – while his classmates had all donned their swimsuits – he shivered. This morning, day two, the entire class had begged Mr. Habersberger to take them to the pool instead of another boring museum or art exhibit – everyone except for Zach.

He didn’t like getting wet with a whole bunch of people nearby who called him “hairy seal” as soon as they saw his chest. So he’d scurried off to a bench beside the ladder leading up to the diving boards, which were closed off today for maintenance. It was a quiet spot, and since the pool below them was only half full, there were no swimmers.

But of course Mr. Yang found him anyway.

After all Zach did to dodge him as well as Thomas and the others, no less. He’d been diligent about it, too: keeping an eye out and darting off whenever either of them came close. It had almost become a full time occupation by now and he had been glad for this moment of calm, alone with his notebook and a thousand ideas for new home-made lego movies.

Mr. Yang’s shadow slid over him. He sat down without asking, with only a hair’s breadth of space between them.

Immediately, Zach felt a flush crawl up his collar and into his face. He didn’t dare to breathe.

“How you you like Sacramento, so far?” Mr. Yang asked casually.

Zach’s gaze flickered up in surprise. Mr. Yang rarely made smalltalk – he considered it a waste of time – and he sure as hell wasn’t interested in a student’s opinion about a mandatory field trip, of all things. Probably?

He tugged at the edge of his open notebook page. “It’s okay, I guess.”

“Any trouble with the boys in your room?”

Ah, so that was what this was about. Zach relaxed a fraction. “No, sir.”

“You don’t have to ‘sir’ me every time you speak to me, Zachary.”

Zach blinked. “Sorry... sir?”

Mr. Yang rolled his eyes. “Are you sure Thomas isn’t bothering you? He’s Frank’s cousin.”

There was something in his voice that made Zach frown. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I... nothing,” Mr. Yang shook his head. He met Zach’s eyes and a tiny, hesitant smile played around his lips. “Ha. For all that I’m always preaching about the harmfulness of prejudice, I’m apparently not beyond slip-ups.”

He threw an arm over the back of the bench. “I hope you’ll forgive me?”

His thumb brushed Zach’s back and Zach nodded hastily. “Of course!”

Mr. Yang inclined his head. He looked over the empty pool and into the distance, where the rest of the class was having fun with the water slide.

“I’m glad you’re here, Zachary. Without you, this trip would have been extraordinarily dull.”

That made the heat come back, rushing into Zach’s cheeks. “Thank you?”

Mr. Yang leaned in. A whiff of his smell – clean but not freshly showered, men’s deodorant, autumn air – tickled Zach’s nose.

“Are you glad I’m here, Zachary?”

Zach’s eyes widened. “Sir?”

Mr. Yang’s thumb pressed into his shoulder, then started to rub it in little circles. “I know you like me.”

All blood drained from Zach’s face. His head, too. He felt light-headed within seconds, unable to form a single thought beyond _He knows!_

“That’s okay, you know? Developing affection for someone you trust and interact with every day,” Mr. Yang’s voice thrummed through the white noise.

But the sudden rush of panic was enough to choke Zach. _He knows I’m a pervert!_

“Zachary?”

_I haven’t said anything yet. He can’t know, he mustn’t!_

He lifted his eyes to face his teacher and deny everything when his gaze caught on Rosie’s pink jacket. She and her friend – the two girls who got his room! – were walking past with plates of french fries, probably from the café at the other end of the property.

Zach jumped to his feet. “Excuse me!”

He fairly sprinted along the edge of the pool. “Rosie, wait!”

She whirled to face him, blonde hair flying, and her eyes widened as she spotted him, jaw dropping. And who could blame her: this was probably the first time they had spoken directly to one another, even though they were in the same class.

Walking up to them at a brisk pace, Zach realized he had no idea what he was doing. He’d just seen her, while desperately searching for a way to prove to Mr. Yang that it was not like that, and followed his intuition.

“Zach, is everything okay?” Rosie asked, even before he had fully caught up to them. “Can you leave Mr. Yang there like that?”

“He’s... he’s okay,” Zach stammered, taken aback. Then he straightened. He was barely taller than her, they could look eye-to-eye. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”

 _Here goes nothing,_ he thought, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Rosie, I really like you, and you’re very pretty. Will you please become my girlfriend?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work may be edited in the future.
> 
> The title is derived from the old dream superstition: "If some one goes to a strange place and sleeps under strange covers, his dreams will come true."


	2. Chapter 2

Even as he waited for Rosie to reply, Zach realized how perfect this was. If he could score a girlfriend as pretty as her, that would prove once and for all that he was interested in girls – and _only_ girls. Most importantly: girls his age, which was the real thing that mattered here.

He looked pleadingly at her. “Please say yes?”

But Rosie hesitated. “Zach...”

Beside her, her friend’s – Zara? Zeya? – eyes got wider and wider, until she kind of resembled a scandalized goldfish from a badly drawn, old comic book. Like the ones Zach’s father kept hidden in the basement, where his mother wouldn’t find them.

Queasiness settled in Zach’s stomach. Asking Rosie out had seemed such a great idea a moment ago, not to mention that being with her would solve all his problems, but as the silence stretched out, he wondered: did Rosie even like him? Would she say no, because she didn’t? Should he preempt that and say something, maybe tell her it was all a joke and he was having her on? But on the other hand: if she was going to say ‘yes’ and only needed to think about it first, that might hurt her.

Zach hadn’t decided on a course of action yet when water splashed onto the stone tiles beside him. A dark figure rose from the pool, Kraken-like: it was Thomas, clad in black swim shorts and a winning grin. “Is Kornfeld bothering you, ladies?”

Zach almost did a double take at the word choice. But apparently Thomas was the kind of guy that could get away with shit like that, because Zeya ate it up. She giggled; whether from genuine excitement or glee – or both – Zach couldn’t tell. “Guess what, Tommy! Zach here just asked Rosie to go out with him!”

“What!?”

Thomas whirled to face him, pale cheeks quickly reddening. He drew himself to his full height – as if he would need that – and squared his bulky shoulders. “Kornfeld!” he spat.

The sound of his voice was enough to make Zach shrink to the size of a daisy. He felt just as brittle as that flower in the blast of Thomas’ booming shout. “You dare to ask my girl out?!”

All blood drained from Zach’s face. _Oh, fuck._

“I didn’t know that she was, uh, taken,” he stuttered, in a desperate attempt to save himself. It was true: if he had known, he would never have dared to even approach Rosie. “Sorry. Real– really sorry!”

Thomas pushed past the girls. “Shut it, short stack. This charade has gone on long enough.”

He looked down at Zach, his eyes dark maelstroms that could swallow a person whole. He cracked his knuckles. “It’s time you learned your place.”

Zach flinched.

“Tommy,” warned Zeya. “Mr. Yang is right over there at the bench. He’s watching us.”

Thomas snorted, through his nose, which sounded kind of disgusting. “I’m not afraid of that chink. But alas,” his grin turned upside down into a menacing frown. “Don’t want Puss in Sneakers over here to kick me out of school, either. Like he did to Frank.”

Zeya gasped. “He did what? Rosie, did you know this?”

Zach didn’t hear her reply – although Zeya not being in the loop about a juicy piece of gossip like this was a fairly interesting development – because Thomas leaned over him, smelling of minty toothpaste. Zach stiffened like a startled rabbit.

“If you’re a real man, you’ll meet me at the highest diving board in twenty minutes,” Thomas ordered. “We’ll duke it out up there. Even though we both know you’ll lose.”

He looked absolutely pleased with himself. “But who knows? If you win, you might impress Rosie enough to go out with your sorry ass out of pity. But if you don’t show,” and now the smirk was back, “you’ll get it tonight.”

Thomas turned to leave without another glance at a shaking Zach, and gestured for the girls to follow him. Zeya immediately skipped after him, launching into a mile-a-minute newest-scoop talk, but Rosie followed at a more sedate pace. The expression on her face, when she met Zach’s gaze, was worried.

Zach looked up to the diving boards and his stomach turned. But he knew what he had to do.

 

* * *

 

The wind was cold and cutting, and even though they were not that high off the ground, the difference was palpable. Zach was glad he was wearing his jacket, while at the same time amazed at how the other boys could stand it.

Thomas had brought his friends: the two from before and the third boy, who still looked unsure, but got over it a lot quicker this time. All of them had been swimming, and tiny droplets of water clung to their chests and hair. The sight of their naked chests did nothing for Zach, which was a relief.

Below them, the pool shone in sparkling aquamarine. Probably from the colored tiles on the inside rather than the unheated water lapping up against them. A fresh gust of wind carried the sharp tang of chlorine.

Looking down was enough to make Zach dizzy. It was more than the advertised thirty-two feet – ten meters – because the pool was only half full, and even without a springboard the simple ledge looked like a bad, bad idea. He was already gripping the metal railing so hard his knuckles were turning white, and he could barely keep his knees from clanking together. “We shouldn’t be here,” he croaked.

The other boys laughed. “That’s the point, Kornfeld.”

Zahc felt a stab, right where a thick, heavy knot had formed in his belly. One that had been coiling tighter and tighter since Thomas and the others made him dodge the “no trespassing” and “closed” signs. This was different than just playing a prank on a teacher or even hitting each other: this was actually dangerous, and he didn’t want to get in trouble for being up here.

Which, sadly, meant he needed to get this over with as quickly as possible without anyone being hurt. He turned to face Thomas. “So, I’m here. What are we doing?”

Thomas looked him up and down. “Haven’t figured it out yet? Actually, no surprises there. We were all aware you’re not the sharpest tool in the shed. You prove it every math class.” He cackled. “So for the dummy among us, let me help you out: we’re doing a jump-off.”

Zach gaped. “Are you insane?”

“What, is little Kornfeld too chicken for that?”

“Thomas,” Zach began. “Think about this for a moment. If we jump from here, we could get seriously hurt!”

“Not jumping could also get you seriously hurt,” Thomas said coldly. “By my fist.”

Zach shuddered. He peeked over the railing and a wave of nausea hit him. He couldn’t do this.

Gathering all his courage, Zach shook his head. “I’m leaving.”

Before he could make a move towards the ladder, the three other boys stepped in his way, shoulder to shoulder, forming a living wall.

Zach’s throat constricted. “Let me though.”

His voice was as small as a mouse’s.

“Look at that, little Kornfeld is scared,” Thomas sneered behind him. “Sorry to break it to you, short stack, but the only way off here is down.”

The boys took a collective step forward, herding Zach towards the edge.

“Thomas, let me go,” Zach demanded. “I’m not playing your stupid game.”

Another step. The stone slate they were standing on crunched under his feet. He was the only one wearing shoes.

Thomas clapped his hands together. “Time’s up, Kornfeld.”

Zach’s heart pounded against his ribcage. His fingers reached the end of the railing and he had to let go. Instinctively, he stumbled into the middle of the ledge, so he wouldn’t fall off the side. The sensation of being up this high and not holding onto something made his stomach turn like he was already falling.

“You can’t do this,” he whispered, hoarse from the panic.

In his desperation, he ran at the boys, trying to barrel through between the middle one and the one on the right, the conflicted one. But they closed ranks immediately, grabbing his arms and wrists. Both of them were bigger than Zach, so they could hold him back with ease and even push him further towards the edge.

“Hey, look,” Thomas said suddenly. “Your White Knight is coming for you. Or should I say Yellow Knight?”

“Thomas! Zachary!”

Mr. Yang’s shout floated up from below, faint with the distance, but the warning in his tone was unmistakable. His heavy footsteps approached rapidly.

Relief flooded Zach. He stopped fighting and straightened. Mr. Yang would be able to talk some sense into the others.

Thomas gaze, when Zach met it, was hard as steel. He pointed to the bottom. “Either you jump now, Kornfeld, or you won’t be able to walk tomorrow. And don’t believe for a second that your Yellow Knight can save you from that.”

Zach’s stomach dropped like a stone. He had no doubt that Thomas meant it – and that scared him so much he couldn’t move a muscle. Until the other boy reached for him.

Zach flinched away from him, jumping backwards – and stepped on nothing. There was no more space on the ledge. His foot slipped over and his body followed. He didn’t even get time to scream before he fell down, down, _down_

Absurdly, his last thought was: _I’m dying for a girl I don’t even like that way._

Then he crashed into the water.

All of his bones shattered on impact, the shards sliced through his organs and blood spurted everywhere. Or at least that was what it _felt_ like to hit the surface, and before the pain had spread through all his limbs, water flooded his mouth and nose and ears. It rushed in through his armholes and up the legs of his pants, soaking through his jacket and shirt and underwear and socks. Chlorine burned like acid down his throat. 

He struggled against the force of the water breaking over him, but his own weight worked against him and sucked him under.

Zach kicked his legs out, reaching with both arms. But there was nothing but water all around him. His clothes seemed to have doubled in weight. His lungs burned, feeling as if the air was pressed out of them. Within seconds, his oxygen was running low. He hadn’t exactly had a chance to draw breath before he slipped. He opened his mouth automatically and a wash of bubbles came out, tickling his face.

Zach blinked and saw nothing: his glasses were askew and the bridge dug painfully into his cheekbone and the root of his nose. Water and fluorescent blue stung in his eyes.

He couldn’t inhale.

There was a splash somewhere above him, muted through the water but close by. That must be Thomas, he thought, vaguely.

He didn’t pay attention to it until suddenly, two strong hands gripped his shoulders, tugging and pressing. Pushing him _under_.

Zach’s heart thundered in panic. He tried to jerk away but the hands followed, their grip unyielding on the jacket he hung in.

With every movement, Zach’s arms and legs were getting heavier. The cold was seeping through his skin, and it took twice as much effort to fight. He felt dizzy from the lack of air, and had he not closed his eyes, he would probably be seeing black splotches or something. He’d never been forced, nor had he ever challenged himself, to hold his breath this long. His tiny body just gave up on him, as always. Zach went limp.

With a jerk, he was pulled up. They broke the surface and suddenly, sounds rushed back in: shouting from the edge of the pool, shoes and bare feet running, and in between the high whine of a whistle.

Zach gasped for air, drawing it greedily into his lungs. Instead of trying to get away, he was now clutching at his savior, pressing into his broad chest. His fingers were clammy on dark wool.

Above him, Mr. Yang’s face hovered, his black hair slick and dripping on his skin. “Breathe,” he bellowed, while at the same time curling an arm around Zach’s small form to steady him. “And try not to swallow too much water.”

“I, I –,” Zach’s teeth chattered. “Thomas.“

They were still up there somewhere. Or maybe they’d turned tail when the teachers came, Zach wasn’t sure. What he was sure about was that Thomas and his fucking friends could shove it.

“He, he said he’d h-hurt me,” he pressed out between clenched teeth.

Mr. Yang’s expression turned murderous. “That fucking brat. I knew it.”

“He– he called you chink. And other names.”

“As I said: fucking brat. You should have told me earlier.”

Zach shrugged, or tried to. “Sorry?”

“You will be. Hold onto me,” Mr. Yang instructed. “Wrap your legs around me.”

Zach did it without question. Even in the cold water and with both of them wet to the bone, he suddenly felt warm. If someone saw him like this, though...– he let go of the thought, too exhausted to contemplate the consequences. His classmates were already here, anyway, and all he wanted right now was to cling to his teacher and get somewhere dry.

Mr. Yang let go of him so he could swim.

Zach closed his eyes. Holding on to his teacher – who had just _saved_ him without hesitation! – shivering and probably on the way to a nasty cold, but with the most delicious, manly smell in his nose, realization trickled in: he wasn’t crushing on Mr. Yang. He was fucking in love with him.


	3. Chapter 3

When Zach woke, he didn’t remember falling asleep. The world just seemed to switch from the security of two strong arms holding him to the softness of a warm quilt. Someone had spread it carefully, right up until it covered Zach’s shoulders, and he floated for a moment in the comfort that enveloped him. Drifting like this, it took him a while to realize why it felt so soothing: it was the smell: autumn-air and men’s deodorant and so very familiar.

Zach sat up with a start. He wasn’t in his room. He wasn’t in any of his classmates’ rooms, even though this still looked like the dorm: the freckled linoleum that tried valiantly to imitate real granite, the darkened wood of the furniture, nicked in places, and the same crisp, white sheets. The only spot of color was the quilt, yellow-red-brown leaves and a couple of ducks resting in the grass, and it obviously didn’t belong here. Someone brought it, and that combined with the fact that there was only one bed meant this was a teacher’s room. Considering the tasteful luggage and black duffel coat draped over the desk chair to dry, it wasn’t hard to guess whose.

He was in Mr. Yang’s bed.

Zach’s brain shorted out for a good few minutes as he stared at the beautiful quilt. His body felt suddenly much too warm, not only where his naked knees rubbed up against the quilt, but also where it had slipped from his bare shoulders.

Wait.

Squinting, Zach lowered his gaze, encountering his hairy chest and nothing more. He was in his underwear. Heat flooded his cheeks, rising to his ears and spreading down his neck. Someone had undressed him, he thought frantically. And he could imagine who. _Fuck!_

Well, at least the man wasn’t here now. Zach looked around for his clothes. If he found them, maybe he could slip out and die of embarrassment somewhere else instead of his teacher’s fucking bed, where he slept... probably in one of his tight, black tank-tops that hugged every curve and dip of his pecs and abs.

Damn, the heat was dripping into his lower belly. To places Zach didn’t dare to contemplate. He shuffled a little, trying to slip the heavy quilt off him, but it only rubbed enticingly against him.

Zach groaned.

“Your behavior has been absolutely intolerable, and this is where I agree with Mr. Yang,” a voice snapped and Zach jumped. But it hadn’t been directed at him.

Outside in the hallway, a door fell shut.

“Detention, for all of you,” continued Mr. Habersberger. He tried to sound stern, but he was too nice to really pull it off. That’s why his students loved him: he always tried to do right by them. This must be hard on him. “Until the end of the year.”

“But, sir!” a boy whined. Zach couldn’t immediately identify him, but from the note of defiance, it probably wasn’t Thomas. He wouldn’t plead. He’d be angry.

“You put a fellow student’s life in danger. You didn’t stop when he told you to quit,” droned a different, deeper voice. The hard, unforgiving undercurrent trickled over Zach’s scalp and set his skin on fire. “Zachary could have died and it would not have been an accident. You should be very, very glad if the only consequences, at the end of all of this, is your expulsion from the school. Providing, of course, that Zachary’s parents don’t want to take this before a judge, which they have every right to. Especially _you_ do not have a leg to stand on.“

Zach could only imagine that last sentence was directed at Thomas. He hoped it was.

Mr. Yang’s voice became a snarl. “If you don’t shut your disgusting little mouth right this instant, boy, the Kornfelds don’t even need to get involved. Because I promise you, one more _peep_ and you will spend the rest of your adolescence in juvie – and don’t think for a second that just because my skin is not the same color as yours, I can’t make that happen. You don’t know a lick about the world, boy, and you are so, so irrelevant that I don’t even bother to remember your name.“

If the door hadn’t already shut, Zach imagined it would have slammed hard enough to rock the walls now. Instead, shoes shuffled on the linoleum and then heavy, assured steps drew closer.

Panicked, Zach looked around for his clothes again. They were neither on the floor nor on the desk, which was the only other piece of furniture apart from the closed closet. Heat hammering, he yanked the quilt up to his chin and held it there, just as the door opened and Mr. Yang stepped in.

He took one look at Zach, saw that he was awake, and slowed. The lock clicked softly, shutting them off from the world.

Zach couldn’t help but stare. He’d known Mr. Yang was attractive – _cough_ , understatement of the century, _cough_ – but right now it wasn’t the form-hugging blue longneck sweater that was almost inappropriately tight around his front, or the black skinny jeans that hugged his a– legs _just so_. It was the line of his broad shoulders, the coiled power in his posture, the murderous expression on his face, that made Zach sit ramrod straight. His skin was tingling all over, but it went deeper, hotter. A faint kind of longing tugged at his chest that he hadn’t known before. Or maybe not acknowledged?

He tore his gaze away, cheeks aflame. Had he really just gotten distracted by his teacher’s physique?

Mr. Yang didn’t seem to have noticed. He twirled the desk chair to face the bed. Droplets flew from the dripping sleeves of his jacket. 

“I don’t want to see you do something that utterly stupid ever again, Zachary.”

Yep, they had reached the boiling point. Zach’s face couldn’t physically get any hotter. At the same time, something uglier and colder coiled in his stomach: shame. He bit his lip, unable to meet his teacher’s eyes.

“I did it for Rosie,” he said hesitantly – and immediately regretted it. But his mouth apparently didn’t get the memo, because it kept talking. “She... she’d be my girlfriend now if you hadn’t... interfered.”

Mr. Yang glared at him, with that same unforgiving look that he probably just used to skewer Thomas.

Zach wanted to take everything back. But his mouth was dry as chalk dust.

“No other person is ever worth that kind of sacrifice,” Mr. Yang said icyly, “The next time someone wants you to do something like that, be it for themselves or for others, you tell them to eat tarmac. Understood?”

The demanding tone sent a shiver down Zach’s spine. At the same time, it made the thing in his belly roar, straining against its confines. It wanted out.

He looked down at the blanket his fingers were tangled in. It sounded so impersonal, the way Mr. Yang said it, with his impassive grownups-know-best expression. They were so close and yet so, so far away. The linoleum stretched out between them like the gym floor, like the entire pacific ocean. Had that only been a few weeks before, he wondered and it hurt, deep inside.

“Zachary, do you understand?”

“Does it matter?” Zach barked, startling himself. “It’s not like you care.”

Not beyond a teacher trying to save a child, anyway. But this time, he managed to bite down on his disobedient mouth.

Mr. Yang went very still. “What did you just say?”

Zach stiffened. He didn’t dare to look up. “I’m so–,”he began, but couldn’t even get the full word out before Mr. Yang was on him.

Big, strong hands, hands that could throw Zach into a _wall_ , curled over his shoulders, fingers digging in until they dented the skin, pressing him into the mattress. Mr. Yang pinned him there, looming over Zach. His scent billowed around them, followed by the heat of his body that seeped through the quilt to mingle with Zach’s own and Mr. Yang’s voice, when he spoke, was a growl.

“You think that I don’t care.”

A statement, not a question.

Zach quivered under his teacher’s solid hold. The closeness had his heart hammering in his chest.

Silence hung between them, like an expensive piece of crystal at the very edge of a counter. Poised to shatter at the slightest gust of wind, or maybe a stray thought.

“I don’t have patience with students, Zachary,” Mr. Yang said eventually. He spoke softly: the sweetest of threats. “And you are constantly pushing mine.”

His palm moved from Zach’s shoulder to splay over his sternum, smoothing the fabric. “When you look at me with your big, innocent eyes, do you know what I want to do then?”

Mutely, Zach shook his head.

“I want to push you up against the door and hold you there until you squirm.”

“Uh.”

Zach was already squirming, just from Mr. Yang’s rumbling voice, the tremor under his iron band of self-control. _A beast on a leash_ , his mind supplied.

“Every time you stutter an excuse, or a question, or even an answer in class – as rarely as that happens – I want to put you on my lap, Zachary, and run my hands over you. I’d start at the edge of your t-shit, just a tickle. You’d writhe.”

He chuckled, but his eyes were molten obsidian. “And when you make that helpless, gullible face, like now, I just want to...”

He trailed off, breath ghosting over Zach’s chin.

 _So close_ , Zach thought deliriously. He just needed to lean upwards, not more than an inch, and he could seal their lips together, and right that moment, he wanted it. For one, breathless second, there was nothing he wanted more. But that black gaze pinned him, keeping him frozen.

Until all of a sudden, Mr. Yang eased back. Air rushed in between them, cold compared to the heat on Zach’s skin.

Something in Zach’s chest clenched hard. On instinct, he curled his fist into Mr. Yang’s sweater and pulled himself up, mashing their faces together. He had never kissed anyone before. He was making a hash of it now, struggling to untangle himself from the grip Mr. Yang still had on him, while he fumbled for purchase. The lips on his were warm and dry, softer than he could have ever imagined. A hint of stubble rubbed against his jaw. He couldn’t taste anything, but he smelled it: shampoo, sweat, salt, and virile, adult male.

Mr. Yang pushed him away.

Zach clung; a choked-off, whimpering sound spilling over his lips. But the hands on his arms were unyielding. The distance between them grew, and grew.

It felt like a stab to the gut. Piercing him, so poignant it overrode the flush of embarrassment that threatened to creep into his cheeks.

But then he saw Mr. Yang’s face: his parted lips, the hunger in his eyes, and the intent. The jaguar staring him down from the jungle thicket. A predator, ready to go in for the kill.

His tongue darted out to lick Zach off his lips, leaving them shining. “I do care, Zachary,” Mr. Yang said, leaning in so he could whisper against the side of Zach’s face. “I care more than that silly girl you jumped for ever could. Do you think I’d ruin my wardrobe for any pupil?”

The words trickled down Zach’s spine like sparkling soda. He shivered. His voice came out hoarse. “S-sir?”

“Don’t test my patience.”

Zach couldn’t help but look at him, his whole body hyper aware of Mr. Yang’s weight on him. “I won’t,” he whispered soundlessly.

Mr. Yang drew back with a thin little smirk. “I don’t believe you.”

Zach’s eyes widened.

His teacher’s hand slid lower, almost but not quite stroking where Zach desperately needed his touch.

“Luckily, we have plenty of time to make that lesson stick,” Mr. Yang drawled. “Because as punishment for lying to my face, you’re also getting detention – under my personal supervision, for the next three months.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can this really be the end?!  
> But hey, it looks like at least Zach's feelings are not one-sided! As if there was ever any doubt, lol. xD


End file.
